


a fresh perspective

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Extra Treat, M/M, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Something Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: A single droplet of water frames Thor’s face, twinkling like a firefly. Loki hungers for it, a pang in his stomach. He should know not to brush the errant wetness from Thor’s face, but for the life of him he can’t remember why.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 108
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	a fresh perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoonGoddex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonGoddex/gifts).



> I hope you have a really nice CB, MoonGoddex!

It is Loki who accompanies Thor to the thickest point of the wood. He is the only reluctant volunteer; venturing into a cursed place is not a welcome challenge for many. Loki has never been one for fairy tales or stories of ghouls living among the shadows. But Loki has seen much in the grand stretch of the universe. He does not believe in bedtime stories, but tales of curses and dark magic rarely spark from nothing.

It is in Thor’s nature to march headfirst into such circumstances like the fool he is. To his brother, the forest only claims home to a figure of legend. A mighty warrior turned recluse whose wares, they say, can birth crops from the rockiest soil. Help awaits their refugee vessel upon their Earth arrival - or, it awaits _Thor_ in any event. But it has been long since Asgard’s people have had to toil the fields and reap young seed. Loki’s seiðrcraft will aid, but it can only help to carry elixirs capable of turning rough hills fertile too.

To Thor, the slim possibility of success was worth the pit stop. Most of their company did not agree. Including Heimdall, whose great eyes could not penetrate the woods. Thus it was Loki who stepped in to offer support to his brother’s plan. If only to have a front row seat when Thor's trek into the deserted brush fails spectacularly.

They have been traveling on foot for half a day, though time is difficult to keep so thick in the woods. A knot of branches blocks out what little light the gray sky overhead would provide. Direct sunlight is rare on the sparse planet of Noth, odd given the land’s vociferous vegetation. A damp chill hangs in the air, and Loki grumbles as his boots dirty among dead leaves and snapping twigs.

“You were more than welcome to stay back with the rest,” Thor tells him. His profile, now missing one eye, is an oddity Loki is still growing used to. Much to Loki’s vexation, Thor is somehow more beguiling without his second eye. The rich tend to grow richer even in times of loss.

“And miss an adventure grand as this?” Loki grins at his brother’s back. “Tell me, oh mighty king. What business do we have seeking out this master of potions without a single crumb to trade in return?”

“We have commodities,” Thor says stiffly, “back on the ship.”

“A day’s walk, maybe more when it's said and done. A fine journey to expect an old recluse to volunteer for. If the being even exists at all.”

Thor huffs. Loki’s smile edges sharper.

“The people are wary of sowing seed on a fledgling world,” Thor says. “We will have help, I know this. But succeed or not today, it’s a reprieve they needed. We’ve done nothing but move since the loss of our home. Tending to the wounded, the hungry, the sick - there’s been no time for rest, you know that. If I fail, it will be with new stories of our journey and the bounties that await them on Midgard. It won’t quell their fears, but it gives them the day’s rest they need.”

Loki arches a brow. This thoughtful version of his brother continues to baffle him every day. When Thor became such a thing, Loki couldn’t say. Perhaps at the same time Loki gave in to sentiment.

Thor wears Asgard's fears like a weight strapped to his back. Loki sees the bow of his shoulders under this new pressure. Laboring steps Loki has always known to be self-assured, and annoying. Thor’s hair is short since their unlucky stop in Sakaar, errant lines buzzed across his scalp. The single eye their sister left him scans the terrain.

He is beautiful now in a way he never was. Back in those days, Thor was radiant as a sun. A golden spot at the center of every room. He was careless and carefree. Arrogant and innocent. Time and loss have stolen that light away like the thick of the trees of Noth. Selfishly, Loki does not miss it, not when it’s left behind a brother who understands what it truly means to lead.

They come upon a spring in a clearing. It’s like an oasis to one dying of thirst. The water is remarkably clear; Loki sees straight through to the clay floor. There are no fish oddly, though perhaps the bank is too shallow. Even the trees open for the pool, allowing in the pink of the setting sun.

It will soon be dark, which sours Loki’s mood. Rather than set camp, no doubt Thor will call upon Loki's abilities to light the way for another few hours. Time nor light have ever been deterrents for Thor. He'll wish to press on for as long as they can, and venture forth in the morning way before the light returns again.

“We should make camp,” Thor says. Loki is dumbfounded to silence.

Reading his lack of response wrong, Thor hums. “You’re right. No cover here. We’ll make camp up along the bank.” He points to their right, a knotted area of trees camouflaged by old stumps and rocks. “Close to the water, but out of sight of others who may breach this part of the woods at night. Gather some kindling for a fire. I’ll see what I can forage to add to our rations. ...What?” Thor finally pauses, seeing Loki’s stunned face for the first time.

“Nothing,” Loki chirps with a brightness he does not feel. “I’ve just never known you to tire so early. Had I guessed, I would have thought you had another few hours in you.”

Thor shrugs. “The sun will set soon.” He nods towards the pink of the sky. As if trekking through the dark was ever a foreign concept to Asgard’s mightiest son.

“Your sole eye still works at least,” Loki deadpans.

It isn’t his finest retort, but Thor humors him with a sigh. He bends before the spring and splashes his face. The dying light catches the droplets running down Thor’s skin. He looks like a treasure vault dressed in gold, quite the prize even one-eyed and scarred.

Loki glares at the deepest of these wounds streaking above and below Thor’s eye plate. All Loki’s life, he has loved and hated Thor with every fiber of his being. Yet it is their sister’s marks he’ll bear for the rest of his days.

At Thor’s questioning look, Loki clears his throat. “Yes, yes. Firewood. As you wish, your majesty.”

“Don’t start,” Thor grumbles, but Loki is already off whistling through the forest.

***

Setting camp is an uneventful affair. In brush this thick kindling for their fire is easy to come by. Game is a bit trickier. Thor reports, surprise evident, that wildlife proved scarce along the waterfront. He does manage to add a healthy pile of plant life to their rations. Loki eyes the offering of berries with the same surprise his brother gave to the absence of game. On Thor’s campaigns away from home, he must have foraged with the rest of Asgard’s company. But learning the ways of forest life never seemed Thor’s way, to put it mildly.

With the fire set and dusk spreading, Loki quenches his thirst at the spring. The water is cool and clean, and Loki drinks healthily by hand while Thor fills flasks at his sides. He washes the warmth of the day from his face and smiles at Loki before returning to their camp. Loki tries to remember when Thor last offered him smiles as freely as he has this day. He would never admit it out loud, but it pleases him to see them.

With evening comes a touch of chill, and the fire bids a warm welcome. By the time Loki lays out his bed roll and settles before the flames, a pleasant drowsiness comes over him. He sips from his water flask.

At his side, Thor pops a handful of berries into his mouth and begins a tale. Not about some past feat of strength that would have made Loki roll his eyes. This time Thor’s story is about Mother. He recalls a precious rose bush in Mother’s gardens - Loki remembers it too, of course. What Loki does not recall is that a spar late at night caused Thor to tumble into said rose bush and rip it from its roots. Humiliating, Thor calls the memory, and prickly.

Loki laughs along. “I always wondered what became of the thing. I thought Mother grew tired of roses. Moved on to the lavender, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Thor remembers, his fond smile tinged with sadness. “I was blessed with neither your silver tongue or quick schemes, so I was at a loss for what to do.” Loki tries to remember a time when Thor referred to these qualities as Loki’s blessings. Old feelings stir in Loki’s chest.

“So, what did you do?” Loki asks.

Thor shrugs. “I dumped the thing in the river, of course.”

“Of course.” Loki eyes him. “You idiot.”

Thor laughs and reclines against the bark of a fallen stump. The firelight plays off his clothed limbs, and his face still gleams from errant spring drops. No amount of hydration from the flask would quench the thirst that turns Loki’s throat dry. Rare that the mere sight of his brother would cause these old forbidden stirrings to twist in his gut. Loki blames their unusual intimacy, canvassing a forest like their adventures of old.

“It wasn’t the brightest solution, I’ll give you that,” Thor concedes. “I knew how Mother favored those roses, and I did not wish to face her or Father’s wrath.”

“And in the morning?” Loki asks. “What then?”

“Nothing,” Thor says. His smile turns thoughtful. “Not a word. It’s as you said, Loki. Roses one day, lavender the next. No one spoke of the rose bush again. Surely it was a folly worth reprimand. I’ve always wondered about that occasion, and others like it. Why were we punished at some points but not others? Why were certain lessons worth teaching and others not? Or was the silence the lesson?”

A shape to the otherwise unremarkable story begins to take shape. Loki sees it in the downturn of Thor’s mouth. In the shadows that form under his eyes in the firelight.

“If you expect me to tell you that you have all the lessons you need to be a proper king, you won’t get that from me,” Loki tells him. “I happen to think you have some spectacular disasters ahead of you.”

Thor huffs. “You have my gratitude as always.”

Loki waves off his sarcasm. “I also think you’ll be fine, Thor. You’ll make a good king.” He realizes that he means it.

Thor raises a searching one-eyed gaze. “As good a king as you?”

Loki shakes his head at the smile starting to creep back onto Thor’s face. “Just because you lack the intelligence to appreciate the fine arts-”

“I’m being serious, Loki,” Thor interrupts, startling Loki to silence. “Asgard was at peace. The people were happy. If they can say the same one day after we’ve settled on Midgard, I’ll count my reign as a success.”

A single droplet of water frames Thor’s face, twinkling like a firefly. Loki hungers for it, a pang in his stomach. He should know not to brush the errant wetness from Thor’s face, but for the life of him he can’t remember why. So he turns onto his side and stretches to smear the drop from Thor’s skin.

For reasons Loki can’t fathom, Thor chuckles at his touch. Loki sees himself reflected in Thor’s eye guard. Scars stand out above and below. Loki rubs his thumb along the raised lines. They scratch against the pad of his finger.

Loki startles when Thor catches his wrist and pries his fingers away. Blinking in rapid confusion, he frowns up at Thor. “I don’t-”

Thor’s mouth interrupts his words. The sudden contact draws a gasp from Loki. Thor slings an arm around his waist, and though there must be a reason to resist, Loki simply cannot fathom it. Thor feels so warm in the evening chill, what could be better than allowing his brother to draw him near? _His brother._ Loki delights in the thought, as much as his lips delight in Thor’s unexpected doting. How he’s missed his oaf of a brother through their separation. How wonderful to be back in his arms.

Thor’s large hand comes to frame the side of his neck. Loki hums his pleasure and climbs to straddle Thor’s waist. It’s better from this vantage, leaning over Thor, dark hair framing his brother’s face. Thor’s body is thick, a test of his legs’ stretch. Loki is more than happy to meet the challenge. The angle pulls his slacks tight, makes desire sit heavy in his gut. Thor can no doubt feel what Loki wants. Loki is happy to show him, happy for Thor to know what Loki has hidden for so long.

“Loki.” Thor groans his name against him. Loki’s head goes light and his skin burns under his clothes. His lips scrape through Thor’s beard. Thor’s fingers return the favor, rubbing a path through Loki’s hair that leaves Loki unsteady with need.

Loki rocks himself downward. Thor rises for him, and Loki experiences for the first time want filling out the front of Thor’s pants. Loki snorts. “One mighty hammer lost and another found, I suppose.” He hungers for it, though. He wants Thor stretching this Aesir skin so tight that the Jotunn might splinter through.

“Shut up,” Thor answers, a touch winded. His breath rasps off his wet lips, and Loki’s heart thumps in his chest. He nearly chokes Thor with his own tunic, so eager to rip it from him. Thor’s hands are just as firm and impatient on Loki’s clothes. Loki doesn’t even feel the cold. Only Thor, warm and solid filling up his hands. Loki kisses him again. He wants to, and he cannot think of any reason why he shouldn’t. Thor’s desire growls against him; he needs Loki as much. Loki luxuriates in the knowledge.

There was a time when Loki knew Thor’s body almost as well as his own. He loved his brother's beauty but hated it, and himself, in equal measure. It was a curse to find them sharing the bathhouse at the same hour, or the changing rooms beyond the training yard. But Loki always looked, he could not help himself.

Thor’s body has changed in the years since Loki last paid it any mind. He is not the pristine sculpture he was in years past. There are scars on his brother’s skin. Scars and bruises litter a body that once seemed invincible. One such scar draws Loki’s eyes, a slender white line slicing Thor’s side. Loki draws his thumb over it. How different things were that day. A confrontation on the roof of Stark’s laughable tower. A petty strike meant to injure, not to kill. Yet to this day, Thor wears the scar. Loki’s tongue crosses his lips.

“You look quite pleased with yourself,” Thor remarks. His low voice rumbles across Loki’s skin.

He grins at Thor. “I am.” The tease forms a dangerous glint in Thor’s single eye. Thor tangles a hand deep in his hair. Loki gladly offers his throat to the feasting of Thor’s mouth.

Nothing comes to mind that could be sweeter than this. Thor’s skin forms a delicious friction against Loki’s. Their bodies fit together as if they’ve always belonged; forged of two species but formed as two halves of a whole. Thor’s hands seem to know Loki’s deepest secrets much as Loki’s mouth knows where to bite Thor’s rare gasps from him. Thor’s cock grinds against Loki in maddening fashion. To have him properly would mean to rise and ransack his belongings for anything of use in such a moment.

Seiðrcraft is not meant for such a purpose. But in dire situations…

Thor grunts against Loki’s shoulder when their friction changes to gushingly slick. His shock turns to rough laughter. “Trickster indeed,” he murmurs.

“Only for you,” Loki says. He’s teasing, but deep inside he knows Thor will like this very much. Only for Thor - and it’s true. Though years have passed and Loki has hated, he's always known his traitorous heart’s true desire. And if Thor was fool enough not to before now, the secret is out. He claims it with a surge forward to capture Loki’s lips. Loki’s mouth swells under so much attention. He does not mind at all.

It becomes hard to know where one ends and the other begins. They knot so tight, limbs wound together. Grasping and pulling, coaxing moans from tangled mouths. Heat floods Thor’s chest and throat, rare have been the times when Loki has seen a sight so wonderful.

When Thor takes Loki, Loki is ready for him. The joy Loki feels is unlike anything he can remember before. It’s as if a piece of him has been missing over the centuries, finally returned. Thor takes him roughly, and Loki wants it so. He kisses Thor in kind. Loki wants Thor’s bruises everywhere. He wants to feel an ache through his limbs come morning. A soreness that will take days to heal. Loki wants to draw Thor into himself, and Thor seems to want the same. He clutches Loki so tight it seems he never intends to let Loki disappear again.

And why would Loki? Why would Loki ever leave this?

Time becomes abstract. There is only the forest floor, the crackle of the fire, and Thor. The universe has become Loki’s brother, and Loki sees that he is the same by the emotion in Thor’s sole eye. Thor looks at nothing but him. Touches nothing but him. Kisses him and groans words of endearment into his skin. Loki wants nothing but this moment. His body shudders, overwhelmed.

When the moment arrives, all the resolve in the universe cannot stop it. Loki claws against it, digging fingers into Thor’s back and pushing down to feel everything. It’s as if Thor is pulsing up through his belly and filling his chest. He thinks he feels Thor’s heartbeat jumping against his own. Loki comes with a quiet cry. He lets Thor gather him up, his body shaken beyond control. Thor holds Loki through it, and Loki holds him. To feel the mighty Thor crumble under his hands is a marvel Loki deprived himself of for far too long.

Loki laughs, tired and in awe. Thor holds him still. There is nowhere Loki would rather be.

***

Until morning, when Loki remembers like a douse of cold water. He wakes strewn on his side with Thor's heavy arm draped over him. Panic shocks Loki like lightning at Thor's drowsy mumbles behind him. Loki flees before Thor can stir. He grabs whatever garments he can from the unseemly pile before the smoking remains of their fire.

Safely out of Thor’s sight, he dresses himself. Covered and alone, Loki feels secure once more.

Spell work. It’s the only explanation for an event so unbelievable. Some curse that would draw the most guilty of Loki’s desires to him. Some foul, evil think that puppeted his brother to an affection Loki knows cannot ever be real.

Their evening spring is visited this morning by a stranger. The man stands short with no hair and unremarkable clothing. His blue tunic and pants crinkle as he bends to drink from the stream. On instinct, Loki draws his blades, though he keeps his distance. “I wouldn’t recommend that,” Loki says.

The man wipes his dripping mouth. “Safe at this time of day,” he says. When he regards Loki, his eyes are slit like desert reptiles. Loki feels the magic on him, power like waves crashing to shore.

He grips his daggers tighter. “I suppose you would know,” he says.

“I should,” the man corrects. “An old hermit like myself can fall prey to any number of dangers in these woods. Protection is vital. And in the end, it brings no harm to those who bring none in return.”

No harm except bringing to surface the most perverse of Loki’s madness. His knuckles grow white around the hilt of his blades. Fear and anger alone would bid him to sever the man’s throat for what he’s done.

“Loki?” Thor is like a storm behind him, sudden and dark. If Loki had a place to go, he would flee - spring up into the canopy, never seen again.

It’s a surprise when Thor’s hand claps down on his shoulder. Thor squeezes him, and Loki feels the imprint of every fingertip. His brother’s glare is not on him for once but the stranger. Even without one eye, Thor strikes a menacing figure. It would impress Loki if he were not mortified by the whole thing.

“You’ve been looking for me,” the stranger says.

Thor’s intimidation slacks to wary curiosity. “Are you the one they speak of who can coax crops from the most unyielding soil?” he asks.

“I? No, but my potions can.” The man waves them along. He never flinches in the face of their combined suspicion and power. Loki can only imagine how mighty he truly is. “Come, I will show you.”

It’s an offer too good to be true, and it is a sign of maturity that Thor does not jump at it outright. “And what is the cost of such power?” Thor asks. He stands close enough for Loki to feel his outline through his clothes. His hand stays firm on Loki’s shoulder. Protective, Loki thinks - the word worthy of a shudder. Thor’s touches have always had the power to attract and repel at once.

“Already paid,” the man replies. Loki does not need to look to know that Thor stands as confused as he is. “The spring,” he continues. “It is a test come nightfall. An open door to those who drink from it.”

Thor stiffens at Loki’s back. He remembers, then. Loki’s eyes roll to the trees. He deliberates jumping high enough to catch a branch and scramble away.

“You toyed with us.” Thor’s anger does not normally take on this quiet tone. It whispers from him now, danger laced across every word. Loki bites inside his cheek.

“The spring clears the way for the desires of those who drink. Others are not so pure. Greed, ego, vanity, power. Blood has stained the dirt you tread on, Sons of Odin.”

Loki’s eyes narrow. A powerful recluse who knows to whom he speaks, then.

“Only the true of intention see my face come morning. Thus, my intentions are true to you. I will help you and your ailing people.” The man waves them along again. “Come.”

Though he beckons them to join, Loki lacks the focus to make his feet follow. True of intention, he said. Only the true of intention overcome the curse.

Loki and his brother both intended to aid their people when they set off. Loki had his own motivations, of course. But their reasons were sound and desire to help was real.

True of intention, however...

He makes the mistake of glancing at Thor, perhaps hoping for some hidden meaning in his brother’s face. Instead, Loki finds the smallest, most perfect smile. A quiet curve to lips Loki feasted upon the night before. So unlike the brother he once knew.

Thor’s single remaining eye turns. Loki could drown in its hope-filled depths.

Clearing his throat, Loki forces his gaze away and marches, head down, to where the old hermit waits. Thor follows close behind. Loki pretends he doesn’t hear his chuckle. He pretends a lot of things, at least for now.

True of intention. When this deed is done and they return to the ship, Loki will have some thinking to do.


End file.
